The Night of the Deadly Dream
by mudstalker
Summary: This is my first fanfic, so here it goes. Jim and Artie recieve an interesting package you'd think they'd be more careful about screening the mail .


The Night of the Deadly Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the train (I lived by it though), but the cool forest that rocks is mine:)

"I think the most irritating thing about this evening is the fact that you get to go out and have a night on the town, while I sit here and wait for Colonel Richmond to wire us," Artie griped as he languidly watched Jim dress for dinner.

Jim smiled his most charming smile and laughed. "Well, after the explosion down at the sawmill, you're not the most popular person in town right now."

"Hey!" Artie growled, "I saved your life, AGAIN, plus the lives of eight other gentlemen. I should be allowed to go to the party too."

Jim looked at his friend in sympathy. After all, Artie had to blow up the dynamite before the Rose-thorn gang could use it. The townsfolk just weren't too pleased on _where_ he had decided to detonate the explosives.

"The sawmill really was the best place," he continued as if reading Jim's mind. "It's near the water so no risk of fire, and after four it was deserted. Plus, it was right next to where you were being held captive and it made a lovely diversion."

Jim groaned. "Artie, I don't disapprove of your reasons. But Colonel Richmond thinks too much constant stress has impaired your judgment, and he wants both of us to take a week or two off. He also wants you to stay out of that town; he has enough to worry about trying to calm the townspeople down without us in his way. So tonight I'll do my little dance for the Colonel, and tomorrow we'll head off to New Orleans for a week of fine dining and fun. What do you say to that?"

Artie relaxed a little. "Hey, that does sound like fun," he admitted. "I might even get a chance to see Lily!"

"I should think so, we'll be there a week. Now I've got to go and you know how much I hate to keep the ladies waiting." Jim grinned as Artie gave him an irritated stare and hurried out the door. But at the door he paused and looked back, suddenly remembering some last minute instructions. "And Artie, if any mail comes, would you open it for me?"

"Why?" asked Artie.

"Because if it's from a woman named Beatrice I'd like you to conveniently loose it."

Artie grinned. "Why Jim you sly devil," he laughed.

Jim grinned. "She took it seriously when I said I would write. And you know how I can't break my word, so if the letter gets lost, what can I do?" As Artemus laughed, Jim exited the train car and jumped onto the back of his black horse. Little did he realize the trouble that that one simple request was going to get his friend into.

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Artie had been experimenting in his lab car for what seemed like hours. Everything was going wrong, and finally Artie gave up and quit for the night. Just as he was finished cleaning, he heard the bell to the parlor car ring. Wondering who could be visiting this time at night (and in such horrible weather; it had been snowing all evening), he opened the door, only to find a postal man with a small package for Jim. Artie paid the postman and thanked him, marveling that he would work so late at night. He then noticed "Rush delivery" printed all over the paper parcel, and the lateness of the hour suddenly made sense. "Wow, Beatrice," Artie sighed, "Jim really had you, didn't he?" Artie tore open the paper, and was startled when a great cloud of shimmering light green dust fell out of the opening all over him. "Achoo!" Artie sneezed as more and more of the powder fell over him. The powder had a heavy, sweet smell; almost like a Lady's dusting powder. "Uhg," he grumbled when he finally could breathe again. "Jim, you attract the weirdest girls." Inside the package there was a book, all wrapped up in a red cloth to protect it from the powdered offering. Artie set the book down on the table and set to work cleaning up the spilled green powder. Within a half hour the mess was cleaned up and a slightly sniffly but clean Artie was stretching out on the settee, ready to read what he hoped would be an exciting distraction from the doldrums of the evening.

After slipping the book out of the red cloth pouch, Artie examined the leather cover. The cover was strangely thick and the book seemed fairly new; the gold gilding in the title having no scratches whatsoever. "The Lady of Glade-Shadow," read Artie silently. He opened the book, and was surprised not to find a title page. "I wonder if Beatrice wrote this herself?" Artie pondered. Shrugging, he flipped the page and settled into reading Chapter 1.

Reading the book was like reading a list of descriptions. The first chapter was all about the area of Glade-Shadow, and the second chapter was dedicated to the descriptions of the Lady who lived there. There was no plot at all; no movement of characters, only pictures written out in thousands of words. Artie gave up after Chapter 3; maybe Jim would enjoy the book more. After all, it was addressed to him. Artie sighed tiredly and rubbed his drooping eyes; the long day was finally catching up to him. "Well," he thought sleepily, "at least that book is good for one thing- putting a fella to sleep."

Artie looked up in surprise as sunlight lilted through the windows in the parlor car. The day before had been gray and cloudy, the last dregs of winter being especially bad this year. Jumping off the sofa, Artie looked out the windows only to discover that all the snow had disappeared. Curious, he stepped outside onto the train platform, and found that not only had the snow melted; spring, _indeed summer _had come overnight. Artemus stepped off the train and began a leisurely walk on a path through the trees, wondering if he had gone crazy. Then, as the train steadily vanished from sight, he found that he recognized this place. Artie's path became a lane bordered by cherry trees in full blossom; then, after what seemed like a quick eternity, it opened up into a garden. The garden was beautiful, walled in by rose bushes and shaded by huge cottonwoods. A small pond with white swans and floating water lilies was in the very center of the garden, and perfectly groomed grass made the carpet for the glade. "That's where I am!" Artie realized suddenly. "I'm in Glade-Shadow, the place from that book. This must be...a dream. But what a dream!"

True, it was unlike any dream that Artie had ever had. The sun felt warm along his back, the air practically tasted like cherries because of the blossoms, the ground was soft and springy, butterflies brushed his face; even the water from the pond felt cold and refreshing when Artemus dipped his hand into it. Then, he heard a twig snap behind him. Artie jolted around, and there in front of him was a beautiful lady. She was tall and thin; refined, with long arms and slender fingers accustomed to playing a piano. Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes glowed with fierce intelligence, but her body language showed a submissive and rather kittenish disposition. She looked at Artie and smiled, and Artie smiled uneasily back, for he felt as if he had met this person before as well. "Of course," Artie thought. "This is the Lady of Glade-Shadow. But she looks like someone else I know...someone from a long time back...someone I didn't like very much." The lady then sadly sighed, and Artie's gentlemanly disposition got the better of him. "What's wrong, mam?" he queried.

"I am sorrowful of heart; this pond has been created by my tears alone. Are you the man named James West for which I sent for?"

"No," Artie replied. "James is my partner. But maybe I can help. My name's Artemus Gordon." The woman looked at Artie in surprise for a few moments, then appeared to make up her mind.

"I sent for James because a friend of mine recommended him to me. But I suppose a friend of his can work as well. My love is a knight of a nearby province. He has disappeared into the Forest of Shadows, and I cannot find him. I have gone into that dark place several times, and I received a note warning me that if I tried to go again, I would be killed." The lady's demeanor changed then; it changed from worried into a quietly terrified grimace. "Even now he haunts me still," she whispered, looking toward a gap in the rosebushes where a small path curved away from the garden. "Who?" asked Artie, confused by the reality of fear he felt when she looked toward the path as if expecting this visitor. "The murderer of my love," she replied. Artie was just about to question her again when the whole entire world shook. "Artie, Artie, ARTEMUS!"

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Artie woke up startled and flailing as Jim shook him. "Artie, ARTIE! Calm down, it's me, Jim." Slowly, full consciousness poured its way back into Artie, and he looked up blinkingly at Jim. "Mornin," he mumbled tiredly. "Morning!?" Jim laughed. "Afternoon is more like it." Artie sat up, panicked. "What time is it?" "One in the afternoon," Jim replied, moving towards the window of the parlor car. "But don't worry about sleeping late, we won't be going anywhere for a long time. I myself just got back onto the train. There was a huge snowstorm last night, and we got about four feet of snow. We're staying here for a few days while we wait for the tracks to clear." Artie blinked, his brow crinkled in the effort to understand Jim's words. He was having a much harder time waking up than he was used to. Jim noticed his partner's silence and turned away from the snowy window to glance appraisingly at his partner. "Artie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine Jim," came a mumbled reply.

"Are you positive? You didn't drug yourself by accident again?"

"No mother," Artie growled. "I'm just tired, that's all. I don't know why I'm so tired."

"Well," replied Jim thoughtfully, "We have been working awfully hard the last few months. Why don't you go into your room and get more sleep. We're not going anywhere."

Artie was about to say that he shouldn't need sleep for a day now and that he had things to get done, but just thinking about the word sleep itself made his eyes droop. "Okay Jim," he sighed. "Just wake me up in time for dinner, okay?"

Jim watched as Artemus shakily stood and moved exhaustedly to his room, holding a small book to his side. His partner was usually so full of life, so energetic, that seeing him like this made James suspicious. "I hope he hasn't caught a cold," thought Jim as he walked back over to the window.

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The snow started to fall again later that afternoon, and Jim's mood fell with it, realizing that their week of vacation was probably going to be spent waiting for the last storms of winter to clear up. Darkness fell early, and Jim felt himself missing Tennyson, who on cold and snowy nights would play his violin. Tennyson had loved bringing culture to these two "western wild-borns," and Artie had fallen in love with the violin. Tennyson taught him how to play it one winter, and Artie picked it up instantly, as he did every other instrument. As Jim thought of Artie, he wondered if it was time to wake him up yet. It was dark now, and Jim had just finished preparing dinner (with his sad cooking, it was more of a sloppy burnt stew) but he wondered if he should just let Artie sleep. After all, Artie hadn't looked quite right. But Jim did promise Artie, and so with a resigned sigh he silently crept into Artie's room.

Artie was laying on his bed, breathing heavily. Something didn't look right about him. There was a strange sheen to his skin, as if it had been polished with a light green powder, and his body was rigid. "Artie!" Jim shouted, his premonition of danger steadily climbing. Artemus sat up at the sound of his name, eyes wild and unseeing. "Jim? Jim! Where are you!?" "Artie," Jim sighed, relieved that his friend was sitting up, "I'm right here." Jim snapped his fingers in front of Artie's eyes, and Artie snapped out of it with a shudder. "Oh, hi Jim."

"Artie, are you sure you are okay?" Jim asked worriedly.

Artie shrugged. "I'm fine Jim. I just had this really strange dream. You know those dreams that are so vivid that they seem real?"

Jim nodded. "Well, I had one of those dreams," Artie replied. "And let me tell you, if you hadn't have woken me up, I'd swear it was real. James my boy, that book Beatrice sent you was something else!"

"What book?" asked Jim curiously.

"Oh, a book came for you in the mail. I thought it might be from Beatrice and I opened it. There was nothing else to do, so I read some of it. I was just so tired I forgot to give it to you. It's...oh, it's here. See, take a look."

"The Lady of Glade-Shadow. What's it about Artie?"

"Well, it's sure not easy reading. It's just a list of descriptions at first. But I fell asleep reading it the first time and all those descriptions gave me such a crazy dream...I can't wait to go to sleep to find out what happens next."

"Well," said Jim charitably as he put the book back on Artie's bedside table, "why don't you join the world of the waking for a while. Dinner's ready."

All through dinner Artie was yawning, and he was so sleepy he hardly touched his food. Alarm bells rang off in Jim's head, but he kept cool. After all, if Artie had caught a cold the best thing for him was rest. Still, it was unnatural for Artie to sleep so long even when he was sick. After dinner, Jim kept him up for another hour with a game of cards, but Artie kept slipping into a doze and jolting out of it. Finally, after Artie had almost knocked over the stack of cards for the third time, Jim gave up. "Why don't you go to bed, Artie? You may need more sleep than you realized." Artie nodded passively and almost too eagerly got up and shuffled off to his room. Again, alarm bells rang in Jim's head, but he forced himself to ignore them. "I've never heard of too much sleep harming a person," thought Jim. "Artie will be fine in the morning."

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But Artie was not fine the next morning. In fact, when Jim tried to wake him, he could only get Artie to wake up partly. "Artie," Jim had stated evenly, trying to keep the unease out of his voice. "Artie, you've slept a whole night and now it's time to wake up. Come on Artie, I've got breakfast." But Artie only groaned and mumbled, "Lady of Glade-Shadow, I've seen her before Jim. She's in trouble...dark forest...dark forest..." With that, Artie slipped back into unconsciousness, and Jim frowned. He picked up the book _Lady of Glade-Shadow_ and headed out to the parlor car. He paused at the window, his unease growing greater when he saw that it was _still_ snowing. He had had fleeting thoughts of going back to the town for a doctor, but it wouldn't be wise to travel out into the storm. Besides, he'd be gone for a day or more in this weather and what if Artie should need him? Instead, he decided to read the book that seemed to have a dramatic effect on his friends dreams lately. Settling himself into a comfortable position, he began to read.

The book was extremely boring to James as well; being only a list of descriptions until the fourth chapter, where some semblance of a plot began to take form. But after the disappearance of the Lady of Glade-Shadow (which happened in chapter four) and the travel through the dark forest (which happened in chapter six), there were no more words. All the pages after were blank. Jim frowned as he flipped through the empty pages; nothing. Nothing at all. He was just about to go back and read chapter six again in confusion when a creak made his head jerk up. Artie was standing in the doorway of the parlor car, grinning tiredly yet good-naturedly. Jim blinked in shock; it had been dark in Artie's room and he had not noticed how sunken his eyes had become nor how haggard and thin his body had changed to. "Artie?" Jim questioned. "Artie, are you awake?" ("Am I awake?" Jim was really wondering.)

"Sure, I'm awake James," Artemus yawned. "Had breakfast yet James?"

"Breakfast! Artie, it's lunch time. And Artie, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Oh, it's lunch?" Artie queried dazedly. "What happened to waking me up for breakfast?"

"I tried Artie. You wouldn't wake up."

"I wouldn't? That's strange. I'm a heavy sleeper, but not that heavy. What's this about a mirror?"

Jim cringed at his slip. Knowing what a worrier Artie was, the last thing he needed was Artie seeing his own reflection in the mirror. "Never mind, Artie. Come on over here." Jim lightly jumped off the settee and helped Artie sink into it. "I'll get you some food."

The two ate a sandwich lunch (well, Jim ate the lunch, and Artie picked at it), and afterward Jim tried to get Artie focused on something other than sleeping. But nothing seemed to work. Finally, getting really frightened, Jim suggested that Artie go back to bed until dinner. Artie complied yet again without complaint and headed for his room after grabbing Lady of Glade-Shadow. "I'm on chapter seven," he explained to Jim. "I'd love to find out what happens next."

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Artie had had full intentions of continuing his reading (he hadn't yet turned the page to find that the rest of the book was blank), but when he settled into his bed he dropped off into sleep instantly. Opening his eyes, he found that he was in a dark damp forest. The trees were tall pines, and out of the trunks grew lighted candles. The light flickered eerily off the dark green needles, and it lit the path Artie traveled on with a dull orange glow. There were no sounds of any animals, just a breath of a breeze and the heavy dampness of a perpetual storm. "This place certainly is a forest of shadows," Artie mused. "But I like the term 'dark forest' instead." Artie walked on and on over the twisting path, and finally before him he saw a huge stone castle. The castle was lit all around by fire, and the walls gleamed warmly in the cold forest. Artie squared his shoulders and walked across the wooden drawbridge. The castle courtyard seemed deserted. There were no guards, no peasants, no animals even. Only dust blowing gently in the breeze. Artie walked through the courtyard, unease prickling down his pine. Every door he came to was locked. Then, he noticed one door in the shadows. It was open.

Artemus walked carefully through the open door and down the hall, his heart pounding expectantly. The hall opened up into another room, this one so well lit that Artie had to shield his eyes. The room was covered in lush maroon carpet, and gold-gilded wall-paper covered the flaws in the stone walls. A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, sending thousands of glittering lights dancing around the room. The furniture was rich and expensive, and the glass and wine decanters looked...very familiar. Artie suddenly heard harpsichord music, and as he turned he saw on a small platform in the corner the Lady of Glade-Shadow. She was smiling and playing to her heart's content. Suddenly, Artie remembered who she was. And as he turned in terror to run back out of the room, a solid plate slid down in front of the only door. "Welcome, Mr. Gordon," said a gleeful voice Artie had had the dubious honor of hearing several times before. "We have been expecting you."

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It was dinner time, and Jim was pacing around the parlor car nervously. He had made Artie's favorite dinner in the hopes that he could entice him to eat more than he had been eating lately, but when he had tried to wake Artie, he couldn't get him to even stir. Jim had no idea what to do now. Perhaps he could try forcing Artie awake with smelling salts (they kept some in the lab just in case they had lady visitors), but Jim doubted they would do any good. Artie was suffering from something; Jim just wasn't sure what. The storm outside was finally letting up now; in a few hours he might be able to brave a trip to town. Jim squared his shoulders. He would risk his life ten times over for Artie if need be, and if there were only a couple of hours in which he could make a trip to town he could do it. He'd ride like the wind and drag the doctor back with him. But all Jim's hopes were dashed to pieces when the wind suddenly picked up again. Jim couldn't risk a trip to town now; he'd be no help to his partner dead. Quietly, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for the storm to subside.

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Artie scowled as Dr. Miguelito Loveless joined Antoinette over at the harpsichord and began to sing "Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John?" He continued to scowl as Loveless toddled back over to him and said, in a sickening voice, "Over here, Mr. Gordon. Take a seat. I promise all will be explained to you." Artie took a seat in a big plush armchair, once again marveling at how real everything in his dream felt. Looking at Loveless curiously, he remarked, "Wow, Loveless, you should feel honored. Not many famous criminals are present in my dreams. They are usually filled with beautiful young ladies." At this Artemus dipped his head toward Antoinette, and she blushed happily.

Loveless grinned. "Oh, I know of your dreams, Mr. Gordon. I know of the nightmares you have about your partner West being killed. I know of the sorrowful dreams you have when you remember your controlling parents, and I know of the happy dreams when you dream of your fictitious 'Great Aunt Maude,' the only person who was ever truly kind to you. Yes, I know all about those dreams. And do you want to know how I know all this? Because I know you and your kind, Artemus Gordon. In fact, your dreams are somewhat like mine."

Artie stared at Loveless in shock, his monologue coming very close to the truth. All humor suddenly vanishing, Artie asked, "So, what do you want with me, Dr.?"

Loveless laughed. "Well, Mr. Gordon, I initially didn't want you at all. I'd think someone of your extensive education would be able to read whom a parcel was addressed to."

"James had me checking his mail."

"So I see. Well, I thought at first, what was I going to do with Artemus Gordon? He is rarely in the mood to help _femme fatals_. But then it occurred to me that I had an excellent chance at something. If I allowed you to find your way here and then mortally wounded you, I could get back at Mr. West without putting myself at any risk."

"Just a minute Loveless," Artie stated, "this is a dream. You can't kill me!"

"On the contrary, Mr. Gordon. I can most certainly kill you. You see, I have completed quite an extensive study in the areas of psychology, hypnosis, and sleep. Do you know that if you fall too deep asleep, your heart can stop? When you waken suddenly in the night, your heart pounding, that is when your body says 'Wake up! You've gone too deep!' They also say that when you are falling off a cliff in your dreams and you hit the bottom, your heart will stop. Oh, it'll probably start up again, because I've hit the bottom many of times. But too much relaxation is a bad thing. The heart is just a muscle, after all, and if it relaxes to the point where it stops, what can be done about that?"

Artie shook his head in wonder. "It's not possible," he pondered. "I'd wake up in an instant if my heart was stopping, just like you said."

"Oh yes, Mr. Gordon, indeed you would...unless you'd been drugged with a very powerful sleeping powder." Suddenly, Artie remembered the light green powder that had gotten all over him when he opened the package. "You mean...?" he whispered.

"Precisely, Mr. Gordon. In its present form, the green powder is just a powerful sleeping powder. But the more you sleep, the stronger the effect it has on you. If you had tried to stay up for a day or so, you would have worked it out of your system. Therefore, I had to make a way to keep you _wanting_ to sleep. And what better way to do this than to create a dream world where you felt totally safe and yet had a mystery to solve? Artemus Gordon, the actor, the lover of all mysterious stories. I realize now that this little game of mine was more suited to your tastes than to James's. Oh, what a delicious turn fate has given me."

"Wait a second!" Artie stammered, frustrated and a little frightened. "How come you are in my dream? The book _Lady of Glade-Shadow _had nothing to do with you, except perhaps that you wrote it."

Loveless grinned. "The mystery would only seem real enough if you had real voices to guide you down this far. Mr. Gordon, allow me to show you another of my technological marvels. The book had in its cover a small receiver that transports my voice through the air in waves. It also has a transporting device of its own, so that I can hear anything you say. Basically, Mr. Gordon, Antoinette and I have been talking you through your sleep ever since you opened the book."

"So that's why the cover of the book was so thick. But how come James hasn't heard you speaking to me? You'd think he would come in on one of your conversations."

"Mr. Gordon, I am constantly listening for his footstep on the creaky wood outside your door. When he comes I stop talking, and he thinks that you are just talking in your sleep. Just harmless, talking in your sleep. How was he supposed to know that every time you were talking to me you were sinking deeper and deeper into my clutches?"

Artie cringed, thinking of the mastery of this plan that Loveless had set up. "Come on Artie, wake up, wake up," he chanted in his head. But no matter how much he pinched his arm, it still hurt just the same as it normally would.

"Don't even bother, Mr. Gordon, you're too far gone. But I have a mind to let Mr. West see you through the last moments of your quickly ending life. JAMES WEST! JAMES WEST!"

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Jim was lost in thought when the first shouted "James West" hit his ear. For a moment, he thought he was hearing things, and then he heard it again. Ever so softly, someone was calling for him. Quickly, hoping that Artie had woken up, Jim hurried past the kitchen car to their rooms, stopping to light the lamp next to Artie's bed. When he looked at his friend, his heart twisted. Artie was ten times as worse as he had been before, his breathing fast and shallow. There was no way he could have called for Jim. Jim looked around the small room, his brows knitted in frustration and worry, when he heard the now chillingly familiar voice speak yet again. "Hello there, Mr. West."

"Loveless!" James shouted. "Loveless, what have you done to Artie!?"

"Why, Mr. West, Mr. Gordon is just sleeping. I have given him a dream in which he is to die in the end, and I am happy to show you how the dream works. You see, I have given Artie a sleeping powder that affects one more and more as they sleep. It was intended for you, but Mr. Gordon was too willing to try it out first. You should really have him stop screening your packages for you; I thought you had more courage, Mr. West."

Jim looked around for the book that had come in the mail. Yes indeed, Loveless's voice was coming from the cover. "Loveless, what are you talking about?" Jim growled into the cover, fear for his friend's life suddenly building up in him.

"Watch and learn, Mr. West. Mr. Gordon, I have here a sharp pin which we shall use to show Mr. West how our little dream world works."

"Don't you do anything to James, Loveless, or I'll tear your heart out," shouted Artie, his voice remarkably clear for one talking in their sleep.

Loveless chuckled. "Watch, here I go, I am stabbing the pin into Mr. Gordon's arm!" Artie's arm jerked under the pain, and he gave a yelp.

"See, Mr. West, your partner is under my control with nothing more than a strong sleeping powder and a few well-placed words. With this secret, who says I can't control the world? But now for our climax. Mr. Gordon, I have in my hand a common pistol. I'm going to shoot you with it. Goodbye, Mr. Gordon." Suddenly, with no more of a preamble, a great 'BANG' from a pistol echoed through the train car. Artie squirmed and gave a painful yowl. His face turned ashen and his breathing was rapid and wheezy. "Mr. Gordon, your dying. Feel the blood flow from you. Look as it puddles red on the floor." Jim dropped the book he had been holding, terrified as his friend sunk even closer to death. Loveless had spoken so quickly, and this whole thing was so bizarre, yet the only thing Jim could do was stand there and stare at Artemus. Well, not the only thing.

Even though Jim had no idea how Loveless was accomplishing this, Jim knew he had to get the book away from Artie. Jim snatched up the book and raced outside. There, in the snow, he heard Loveles's deadly chuckle. "So, Mr. West, you've decided to remove the source of pain. But it won't matter. Artemus lies on my castle floor bleeding to death, and even if you tried there would be no way to save him. You can't wake him up. So, what are you going to do?" As Loveless laughed his maniacal gurgle, Jim drew his gun and shot the book to pieces. Electricity from the small book shot out and burned up the pages, till the book was nothing but a smoldering heap of ash and wires in the snow. Satisfied with the results of his shot, Jim raced back inside. He had to get Artie to wake up.

"ARTIE! ARTIE! Come on, Artie. You're a government agent, for Grant's sake! You can do this."

"Jim," Artie moaned, "I think Loveless got me pretty bad. I'm loosing lots of blood, Jim. I don't know if I can make it back to the train."

Suddenly, an idea struck Jim. Shrugging off the feeling that he was loosing his mind, Jim grabbed Artie's arm. "I'm not letting you go, Artie! Come on. I'll carry you if I have to. But Artie, I've never been in this... castle before, and I have no idea how to get back to the train. I need you to stay awake so that you can lead me back. Got it?"

"Jim, you're here too?" slurred Artie.

"Yes, I'm here, now stay with me Artie." Quickly, Jim picked up his partner, who had grown much thinner over the few days and was consequently much lighter, and said, "Now, where do we go from here?"

"Jim, the only door is blocked off by a metal plate."

"Really, Artie? Don't worry, I've got some explosive putty in my boots." Quickly Jim ran to the lab and grabbed a handful of the stuff. He grabbed an unused bottle, stuffed the putty inside, and carried Artie quickly to the door of the parlor car (the door that led outside). He threw the bottle into the tree, and it exploded quite satisfactorily in the branches. "There, Artie, now what?"

"Go down the corridor and go out the door. Okay, go across the courtyard. Now, across the bridge. Are we out, James?"

"We're out Artie. Now we go where?"

"Follow the path through the candle-lit forest."

"Candle-lit forest?"

"Can't you see it Jim?"

"Yeah, sure Artie, I just think it's strange, that's all."

Jim set Artie down on an armchair, laying him across it so that it still felt like he was carrying him. Quickly, he tromped across the floor of the train until he felt stupid and then he stepped over back to Artie. "We're out of the forest, now. Where are we Artie?"

"We're out of the forest already?"

"Well, I ran fast and you must have passed out or something."

"Oh."

"Well, so where are we!?"

"We're in Glade-Shadow. There's a pond nearby and a path that's bordered by cherry trees leading to the train...train..."

"Artie, hold on. I'll get you some help." Not knowing what else to do, Jim picked Artie back up and walked him into his room. He laid him carefully on the bed and stood there, feeling perplexed and furious at Loveless. Then, he had a stroke of genius. Coffee! Lots of it. Quickly, Jim grabbed the coffee pot that was continually smoldering on the kitchen stove and poured a cup. He jumped back into Artie's room and propped him up. "Here, Artie, the Doctor says you have to drink this." Artie didn't make a move. "Artie, Dammit! Come on! I've got you back into the train, you're patched up, and the doctor said you'll be fine. You have to drink this now!" Artie slowly opened his mouth, and Jim poured in as much coffee as he dared. Artie slowly swallowed. During the next hour, Jim forced in as much coffee as he could into his still hibernating friend. Finally, Jim sat back and waited anxiously for a sign that his intuition had done them some good. After what seemed like hours, Jim noticed that Artie had begun to breathe deeper. The coffee was working! Jim sighed and sat back into a chair, his own thudding heart finally relaxing to a steady beat. "Okay, partner, that was a Loveless first."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Jim woke up with a start as the train slowly jolted to life. He sighed in relief; the train's engineer Orrin Cobb had estimated that the tracks would be ready by morning. Indeed, the snow had finally stopped falling and the train had begun its slow journey towards New Orleans. Jim stood up, stiff from sleeping in a chair by Artie's bedside all night. Artemus had been asleep for two days straight now, but it was a different kind of sleep. Artie's breathing was slow and deep, and his body was relaxed. Jim would never forget the fear he felt when he had been watching his friend die in front of him; the fear that came with knowing that he was slipping away and that there was nothing that could be done about it. But that fear had been followed by immense relief when Jim had tried the coffee remedy with his friend. Coffee stimulates the blood, and apparently that had thrown off the effects of the powder pretty well. Jim was immensely relieved to see his friend doing much better; he wouldn't even let himself think about what life would have been like had Artie truly died.

Jim was just about to get up and get a cup of coffee when Artie stirred. He stretched his arms out wide and yawned, then opened blinking eyes. "Mornin, James!" he cheerfully stated. Then he paused for a few moments and frowned. "What are you doing in my room?" Jim looked at Artie puzzled for a second. "Artie, don't you remember what happened? You've been sick; you nearly died."

"I have?" Artie looked at Jim and frowned. "Now, that's a horrible trick to play on someone Jim. To tell them they've been sick and all when they just slept in a little late. How was the party last night? Do we get our vacation to New Orleans?"

Jim stared, relief mixed with resignation in his voice. "We're on our way there now, Artie. Get up would ya! Breakfast is on the stove." Jim strolled out of Artie's room, ready to laugh at the look of surprise on his friend's face. Oh, he would learn what happened soon enough. But there would be time to tell the story on the way, and right now all Jim wanted was for Artie to eat a good breakfast and to stay up for a consecutive day.

_Finis_


End file.
